


All the Love you Write

by surprisepink



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Humor, Love Letters, M/M, Matchmaking, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22637395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surprisepink/pseuds/surprisepink
Summary: Flayn was on a mission.That mission was, in short, to extract information from one Linhardt von Hevring: what hisrealintentions were toward her, and why, and whether she should be concerned, or excited, or warning Seteth about possible courtship presents.The method: writing him a love letter from an anonymous third party.Now that she’d managed to convince Caspar to be her accomplice, she could not be stopped.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez & Flayn, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 12
Kudos: 138





	All the Love you Write

It had started like this.

Flayn had been at the library, searching for a book, and very carefully keeping an eye out for Linhardt. It was not an uncommon occurrence that the both of them ended up there, Linhardt stacking up multiple thick tomes about whatever had caught his fancy that day and Flayn browsing the shelves for any new additions to the collection, and before their most recent conversation, Flayn had thought nothing of it. But Linhardt had proposed - if that was indeed the correct way to think of it! - not two weeks ago, and now things were different.

She was bound and determined to avoid him now, because the moment they spoke again, he would no doubt repeat the offer, or come up with something even more ludacris, or - and this might be the worst of all - act as though the whole conversation had never happened. Frankly, the man was unpredictable, at least in her eyes, and there seemed to be no obvious conclusion to the whole affair.

Blessedly, there appeared to be neither hide nor hair of Linhardt, and so the shelves could be browsed in peace. As she did so, however, she saw a much less familiar face, and pondered it for only a moment before she sat herself directly across from him. Suddenly the solution was clear: if she could not yet understand Linhardt, all that was needed was the aid of someone who _did_ understand him!

"Excuse me!" she exclaimed, at least as much as she could exclaim while still whispering. "You're Caspar von Bergleiz, right?"

It didn’t take much time being his classmate, then his comrade-in-arms, to know that Caspar wasn’t the studious type, but there was no time to worry about exactly what he was doing here right now. She and Caspar were hardly friends, but they were teammates, and he seemed the type who would be eager to help a teammate in need. All that mattered was that Caspar knew Linhardt, and Caspar _had known_ Linhardt for what most people would consider an impressively long amount of time, and that meant that he could be her greatest ally in her quest to… well, figure out what on earth Linhardt was thinking, to start with.

"Uh... yeah?" Caspar said, blinking.

"And you're Linhardt's friend, right?" she continued, the excitement in her voice rising.

"Uh-huh. What's up?"

It was very impressed by how cooperative he was being, all things considered. Good, all the better to extract details from.

"Well..." Now, how to approach this? "I wanted to ask... has he said anything about me lately?"

Caspar's brow furrowed, apparently in thought. The two of them did seem to be together often, so it was no surprise that it took him a moment to recall just which conversation might be relevant. "I mean, he did say you two have the same crest. You know he's really into that stuff, right?"

Flayn nodded. "Very much." Far too much.

“And, uh,” he continued, taking a moment to scan Flayn’s face, looking for some kind of explanation as to why she was confronting him so abruptly, “he wanted to ask you about it? Or something.”

“Was that it, really?” Surely -- surely! -- if Linhardt was planning to propose, he would have told his dearest friend, of all people. If he hadn’t that would mean that the whole thing was in jest, or as an impulse, and that would not do!

“Yeah, I think so.”

With a small pout and an even smaller ‘hrumph’, she settled back into her chair. More questions than answers were bubbling within, the precise opposite of what she hoped would happen.

“Uh, Flayn? Did something happen?”

She smacked her hand on the table between them, voice rising. “Yes, something very much did happen! Your friend proposed to me!”

“He _what_?” Caspar yelled, his own voice even louder than Flayn’s. “To _who_?!”

They were both jarred out of their little - discussion? Confessional? -- when several nearby students shushed them, and Flayn flushed with the realization that the way she was behaving was utterly unbecoming. “Come with me,” she whispered, tugging on Caspar’s sleeve.

“You shush, this is important,” Caspar told the students, and let himself be tugged.

Flayn felt as though she was on the verge of exploding the moment they exited the library, but she managed to restrain herself until the both of them made it outside. When they did, all of the pent-up emotion - stress, confusion, maybe a bit of fear - exited at once.

“Your friend Linhardt! He’s been asking me question upon question about this and that, and my crest this and who I am that, and just recently he asked me to marry him! He said we could advance his research together, and that he ‘liked me enough’ to do it, and I swear to you there wasn’t an ounce of passion in his voice!” she paused to take a deep breath, “Please tell him to court me properly!”

* * *

And now here they were, both of them squeezed behind Flayn’s desk, Flayn with quill in hand and Caspar nodding along as she wrote with a swift but remarkably neat hand.

_My dearest Mr. von Hevring,_

_Greetings, I expect this letter will find you well. I hope your spirits are not suffering too greatly with the amount of rain we have had as of late._

“What’s with all the formalities? What kind of letter is this?” Caspar asked.

Flayn firmly shook her head. “It wouldn’t be proper to ignore these things! It may be anonymous, but that’s no excuse to be rude.”

“He’ll fall asleep reading this if you go on for much longer, you know. He’s not gonna care about small talk, plus I already know he likes the rain.”

She merely shushed him and continued on.

_As of late, I have become aware of a most distressing rumour, one that I hoped that you might be able to shed some light upon. A certain classmate of mine has informed me that you expressed to miss Flayn that you might have an interest in marriage. I wish to know if this is true, because_

Flayn nearly spilled her ink as Caspar gasped, a sudden realization apparently striking him.

“I know! Tell him you’re a secret admirer and that’s why you need to find out!”

“A secret- Caspar, please, I haven’t decided whether I am interested! As I said before, I expect him to court me first!”

“No, no, see, if you just ask him, he won’t write anything back because he won’t care. Say you’re a secret admirer and he might be interested. Or, well, remember it, at least.”

She frowned; it didn’t seem like a bad idea, per se, but the more lies they stuffed in the letter, the less believable it would be. And given how dangerously close Linhardt had gotten to making certain revelations about her, it might be best to come up with as simple a story as possible. “I don’t think I know how to pretend to be a secret admirer, frankly. It’s all very romantic, and yet…”

“It’ll work! Just write what I say.”

Well, she could always crumple the whole thing up later.

_I wish to know if this is true, because I myself have developed an interest in you. You don’t know me, but I’ve been in love with you for many years. For a long time I have wished to touch your long hair and stare deeply into your eyes. You are so, so very pretty. If you would perchance it, I want to know if you_

“Caspar, that is not the correct way to use ‘perchance’.”

“Whatever! Does it matter?”

“It does!”

_If you would ~~perchance it, I want to know if you~~ consider the affections of another lady, please make me aware of it. If your heart is set on Flayn_

“...let Caspar know.”

“If you say it like that, he’ll know what we are up to immediately. A real secret admirer would request to have an answer conveyed in secret, without the help of a third party.”

“Okay, but we’re not a real secret admirer, and anyway, I want to know.”

“You're not the least bit romantic, are you? That whole business with touching his hair, as well - nobody would truly be seduced by that. Please come to me when you want to write a real love letter, and I will assist.”

“Wh- wait, why would you help me with that?”

“Someone has to.” Someone did not, in fact, have to, and Flayn acknowledged that she might regret this offer. “And besides, you’re helping me with this affair, so I will assist you in return.”

“What was wrong with the hair thing, anyway? It’s true!”

“That you want to stare into his eyes?”

“That he’s got nice hair! Geez.”

The faintest bush appeared to have spread across Caspar’s cheeks, but it was probably nothing, Flayn decided.

_If your heart is set on Flayn, please write to me in return and pass the letter along to Caspar. He is my closest confidant in this and will make sure I get your reply. Please tell him all the details also. I eagerly await your response._

_With All of My Love_

“It’s adequate, I suppose,” Flayn said, frowning at some of Caspar’s more… lackadaisical wording.

“It’s great! We make a good team.”

“Do you expect him to respond to something like this? I really only wish to know whether or not he truly intends to court me, but… well, I wouldn’t mind more of an explanation than a yes or a no. Perhaps he will reveal them if it’s you.”

“He’ll definitely read it at least. I dunno how much he’ll care about answering, but I’ll just ask him myself if he doesn’t.” He shook his head, sighed; now that the letter was taken care of, he was starting to allow his mind to wander, thinking about what the reply might be.

Linhardt might say he made his proposition to Flayn as a passing fancy, an experiment. If that was the case, they could ignore the whole thing and move on, although now that Caspar thought about it that would mean he’d have to tell Linhardt the whole thing was a farce and there was nobody trying to get him to court them after all. Or he might say he was serious about Flayn, which was…

In all honesty, Caspar wasn’t sure what to make of it. Flayn was a sweet girl, and while she was apparently rather young, she seemed wise beyond her years, a sharp contrast to Caspar himself. She and Linhardt were both voracious readers, and they were both genuinely curious about the things that interested them. Her background wasn’t clear to him, but it wasn’t like Linhardt cared about that kind of thing. It wasn’t much of a stretch for them to court, really, and they could probably be a happy couple if Linhardt could bring himself to care enough to be romantic toward her. And yet…

Caspar had a sinking feeling in his stomach from the very moment Flayn told him about what had happened, and that feeling had yet to go away. For some reason he disliked the idea of that type of relationship developing between them. Wanted to stop it from ever having any chance of happening, even.

Flayn’s voice snapped him out of his daydreaming. “Please see to it that he answers, one way or the other.”

“Hey, Flayn? What are you gonna do if he says he’s interested in courting you?”

“If that’s the case I’ll have to speak with my brother, and promptly. I’ve chosen not to get him involved at this point, since if someone expressed any serious interest in me he would have to be involved as my guardian.”

“Yeah sure, but are you actually interested in marrying him?”

“As I said, that remains to be determined. He’s a lovely and talented young man, but that doesn’t mean I’ll fall in love with him so quickly. And I’ve no reason to marry for money or status, only love.”

“I guess it’s like… who wouldn’t want to marry him, you know?”

“Pardon me?”

“Linhardt may be weird to talk to at first, but he’s great once you get to know him. Plus he’s tall, and smart, and good at magic, and that whole pretty hair thing that I said before. He’s a good listener and he’s good at talking about the stuff he likes in a way that’s kind of cool, even if you don’t understand it. He helps me get out of trouble and when he gets himself into trouble it’s only because it’s something that really matters to him. He’s kind of perfect, who wouldn’t be a little bit in love with him?”

Flayn blinked once, twice. Jumping to conclusions was never desirable, and yet… those words were filled with perhaps more than a normal amount of praise for one’s close friend. “If you say so. Just see to it that he gets the letter, and we will go from there.”

* * *

It wasn’t the first time that Caspar spent an entire evening training, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but today it felt different in a way that made it frustratingly difficult to focus. He had, technically, given his best friend a love letter and was now waiting for an answer.

The letter wasn’t really from him, and he wasn’t necessarily hoping for a “yes”, but still.

The sun was setting now as he continued to wail on a stuffed practice dummy hanging from a rafter, his punches doing alarmingly little to distract him from what was going on. He had placed the note in a prominently visible on Linhardt’s desk earlier that day, when Linhardt had been out (and not bothered to lock his door, as per usual). At least, he hoped it was visible. There was a distinct possibility that Linhardt would dump a pile of books on his desk without even noticing, and the letter would be lost to the abyss that was Linhardt’s collection of papers, notes, and miscellany.

The longer he waited, the more it felt like the whole thing _had_ come from the heart, and that he was hoping to hear good news so he and Linhardt could… well, could something.

Goddess, maybe he needed to find something bigger to punch. Thinking sucked.

The sound of the training hall’s giant doors echoed through the room and Caspar glanced over his shoulder. With any luck it would be Raphael, who would be a very convenient big thing to punch. For sparring purposes, of course.

He was not so fortunate, of course. It was Linhardt.

As soon as the two made eye contact, Linhardt gestured for Caspar to come over, himself staying firmly planted by the doorway. Instinctively, Caspar trotted over, though he was unsure if he wanted to hear what Linhard had to say.

“Caspar, what do you think of this?”

He thrust a folded paper at him rather unceremoniously; Caspar’s heart thumped in his chest as he unfolded it and recognized Flayn’s neat, loopy handwriting. “What is it?”

“An item I received on my desk this morning. Please take a moment to read it.”

It felt silly to pretend not to know what the letter contained, but if he didn’t, the whole thing would be for nothing. So Caspar re-read the whole thing -- “perchance” would be fine there, it sounded fancy! -- and faked his best laugh. “A love letter, huh? Popular guy.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Linhardt replied, barely raising an eyebrow. “But it does present an interesting conundrum.”

“What, like you’re not sure if you like this girl or not?”

“It’s hard to say if I don’t know who she is. And besides… she’s not very romantic.”

Caspar wrinkled his nose at that; the letter was perfectly romantic, thank you! What was he supposed to do, write poetry? Would Linhardt even be into that?

Right, the plan. Getting more information for Flayn.

“I just- I mean, she sounds like she wants to know whether or not you’re even open to another person, I think. Or if you just like Flayn.” Come to think of it, Linhardt had never mentioned Flayn to him, he should probably pretend to be surprised. “Wait, do you like Flayn?”

“I may have expressed an interest in her.”

“Dude, is that it? Talk about not being very romantic.”

“I don’t see the point in dressing these things up. I simply mentioned to her that we might be a compatible pair, in terms of crest research. Although our personalities do match as well, when you think about it.” Linhardt shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, she didn’t accept.”

“So you don’t like her.”

“I’m open to a relationship, that’s all.”

It was becoming very easy to see why Flayn was so overwhelmed by what Linhardt had said to her. Years of knowing Linhardt had made his thought process pretty easy for him to follow, but Caspar was unique in that respect. His approach to this whole thing was really a bit… well, odd. Overly analytical, honestly. It was difficult to imagine how Linhardt would act if he _did_ fall in love.

“Nobody’s going to fall for you if you see getting married like that.”

“Someone just did, apparently.”

“Right, so _are_ you interested?”

“You seem very intent on getting an answer to this,” Linhardt said, an uncharacteristic smirk on his lips, “But I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you one right away. I hope you can tolerate that.”

With a huff, Caspar threw his hands in the air. “Why ask me if you don’t want my advice?”

“I just wanted to share with my dear friend, I suppose. You’re not having ladies line up to be courted yourself, so I thought you might be interested in a bit of gossip.”

This was going nowhere fast, and Caspar was well aware that the more he pressed Linhardt, the more he’d evade any real answer. Better to wait and see; if Linhardt ever arrived at a decision, it would be inevitable that Caspar would find out. They talked over just about everything else, after all.

Defeated, Caspar picked up his abandoned axe. “This is dumb, let’s go back to the dorms.”

He didn’t notice the knowing smile on Linhardt’s face as he trailed lazily behind.

* * *

Flayn’s legs swung back and forth as she watched Caspar drop a cube of sugar into his tea, then two, then… cream in a green tea? Oh dear, why did he even bring that?

“...and he hasn’t said anything about it since!!”

She sipped her tea carefully so as to not burn her mouth, nodding along as Caspar relayed every detail of the first and last time Linhardt acknowledged their little secret project. His voice had raised with each new detail, until he was practically shouting. This was no surprise given that was exactly how noisy Caspar was in class, and on the battlefield, and more or less everywhere else, and she knew it made the most sense to just let him finish.

When he did, she set down her teacup with a satisfied nod. “It sounds fine.”

“Is that all?!” Caspar replied, slamming his hands on the table. Frustration was building up in him as he continued not to get answers, and even he wasn’t sure why. Usually Linhardt’s intentions were clear as day to him, even if he didn’t understand the details of his ideas, but when it came to romance...

“He said, more or less, that he’s fine with it if I don’t accept. It doesn’t sound like it matters much to him, and that’s really all I needed to know.”

“He’s always like this! He’ll say things like that and then act like it’s no big deal later on.” Caspar sighed loudly; from anyone else, Flayn would think he was being pointlessly dramatic, but from Caspar… well, he probably really was just that exasperated. Truly, there was no need for him to get so upset on her behalf! Unless…

“Might something else be bothering you, Caspar?”

“Something else?”

“It’s just… perhaps it is not my business, but it sounds as though _you_ are unsatisfied with his answer?”

That apparently gave Caspar pause; it was readily apparent that he had gotten himself worked up over something that he himself had yet to fully figure out. It reminded her of a tiny dog: eager, blunt, and barking very loudly at nothing in particular, just because that was the best way he knew to express himself. If only she could supply the answer for him!

“Perhaps,” Flayn continued, “You wished he would respond to the letter more enthusiastically?”

“Why would I want that!” he exclaimed, barely a question.

“You did give him a love letter, technically. It’s not so surprising!”

Caspar huffed, crossed his arms; and yet, Flayn noted, did not object.

“It seems to me,” she continued, every so delicately, “that if you _did_ say the letter was from you, and that it was sincere, he might react positively.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Flayn set her teacup down, her eyes alight with… something Caspar sort of recognized. It was the same expression that Hilda made when she was asking him to do her chores. “Caspar, do you have a crush on Linhardt?”

She stiffed a giggle as Caspar blushed all the way to his ears. The thought of two dear friends, so different from one another and yet inseparable in life and in love… why, it was like something out of a novel! How could she have been so blind not to see what was right in front of her all along?

And besides that, if Linhardt had another, genuine romantic prospect, she truly wouldn’t have anything to worry about.

“Caspar… the Day of Devotion is coming up, isn’t it?” she continued, smiling mischievously. “There’s no better time to confess, and I will take it upon myself to assist you.”

The rest of Caspar’s tea disappeared from his cup shockingly quickly, and he was on his feet. “Wow, look at the time! Gotta go, thanks for the tea!”

Flayn was, perhaps, on a new mission.

* * *

There had never been a time that he had to re-evaluate his relationship with Linhardt, not in all of their many years together, and he strongly suspected that Linhart felt the same way. From the moment they first met, when their fathers were having some stuffy meeting or visit or whatever -- hell if either of them understood or cared, at that age -- he’d decided that Linhardt was his friend now, and if his friend wanted to read books all the time and he had to drag him on adventures, well, he’d just drag him on adventures.

At Garreg Mach they had only grown closer, what with all of the classes and battling, and when Linhardt had opted to join the Golden Deer in the name of having a better chance to study their professor’s crest, it had only taken Caspar another moon to decide that life was much, much less interesteresting if he didn’t see as much of Linhardt, so he quickly joined him there. And when things spiraled out of control and it turned out they had sided directly against the new Emperor… well, that was a little weird, and very uncomfortable at times, but what else were they going to do, fight each other?

Caspar thought about romance rarely and it was never something immediate. He supposed, on occasion, that he’d settle down with someone nice one day, eventually. Maybe. But Linhardt was his now, and his immediate future until all of this fighting settled down and they’d have to figure out something else to do. And after that Linhardt would undoubtedly be looking for a way to avoid inheriting anything that came with duties and Caspar would be looking for adventure and they’d both be looking to fill their days with something -- someone -- familiar. Comfortable. Satisfying.

He didn’t _not_ have a crush.

He thought about Linhardt putting his hand under Caspar’s chin and Linhardt pulling him close and Linhart _kissing_ him and then he stopped thinking entirely because he immediately felt like he was going to explode, probably.

Oh no.

* * *

“Oh, excuse me! Mr. von Hevring!”

Linhardt looked lazily in the direction of the voice, then back down at his book, pointedly pretending not to hear.

“Hello! Excuse me?!” Flayn called, louder this time.

“That’s my father’s name.”

That gave Flayn pause, but she forced the thought that she might have brought up a sore spot to the back of her mind. “Linhardt!” she called instead.

“What is it?”

“Linhardt, I have something very important to talk about,” Flayn said with all of the firmness she could muster with her rather tiny body and high-pitched voice.

“Is it about the marriage situation? Because I give up.”

“It’s about the-” she paused, having not expected him to have been so direct. “What? Oh, yes, that.”

“Well then, I’m not interested anymore. Caspar asked me, too.” he raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you two are plotting together and frankly I want no part of it.”

“Plotting? Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, just something about a letter, and courting, and I’m sure you know the rest. Next time, please just say you’re not interested.”

By the time Flayn had registered what he was saying, Linhardt had already turned to walk away, his nose back in a book that he had apparently kept tucked into his robes.

“Wait, no! It’s not about that! Not quite!”

Linhardt turned to her, his voice still flat. “Not quite?”

She took a deep breath; it was embarrassing, but she’d just have to push through and confront him. There seemed to be no other way. “Are you and Caspar in love?” she said in a stage whisper.

“Goodbye,” Linhardt said, turning away again.

“Please tell me! It would be so romantic if you were!”

“If I answer, will you leave me alone?”

“I will think about it!”

“I’m… not opposed to a relationship with him. Is that good enough for you?”

Flayn practically squealed as a way of response, and Linhardt immediately regretted ever talking to her. “You should tell him!”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“What? Why?”

“Flayn, we’re in the middle of a war, and none of us have time for romantic entanglements. On top of that, I have no interest in planning out any sort of genuine confession. If something happens between us, it will happen in due time.”

She resisted pointing out that his proposal to her was also a form of romantic entanglement - goodness, he really hadn’t taken it seriously! - and instead offered him a nod and what she hoped was a firm yet affectionate pat on the back.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it!” she called back to him as she skipped off.

Oh no, thought Linhardt.

* * *

“Oh yes!” said Hilda, placing the dozenth rose - red, naturally - in a vase. The dining hall was lit by only a few candles, arranged carefully around it, and on each side was a plate set carefully with what Hilda was pretty sure was the right number of forks.

“Thank you again for helping me, Hilda! I’m sure they will love it!”

“Not a problem, Flayn. Anything to get out of meal cleanup duty for a whole moon- and to help two lovebirds, I guess.”

Hilda hadn’t particularly thought of Caspar and Linhardt as a possible future couple before earlier that day; then again, she hadn’t particularly thought about Caspar and Linhardt at all. Caspar was a nice guy, a friend even, definitely useful for the occasional heavy labor, and Linhardt was just… in the library a lot. He seemed like he’d make you feel dumb if you talked to him for too long, so she didn’t.

Flayn, she liked. Flayn was sweet, and even though she was a stickler for the rules, she never tattled when Hilda was napping or fixing her makeup when there was supposed to be a strategy meeting going on. And she was apparently very, very determined to help Caspar and Linhardt fall in love, which was very sweet of her.

“So… is there a reason they don’t just talk it out? They talk about everything else, right?”

“Matters of the heart are difficult! Especially for men, it seems.”

“You are _so_ right!”

Soon enough, it was time, and Flayn hastily made a final adjustment to the placement of a wine glass before the both of them ducked behind the counter, mere yards away from their table setup. Leaving strategically placed letters seemed to be an effective approach so far, so she had set out another pair, one in Caspar’s training gauntlets and one in a book that Linhardt was presumably in the process of reading before he had fallen asleep in the courtyard hours ago. (Was he awake now? He had to be, surely.)

Caspar entered right as the clock chimed, and Flayn resisted the urge to giggle as he glanced around, clearly not expecting what he saw. Neither of the girls had ever had a romantic dinner in their lives, but Flayn was _quite_ confident that it involved bouquets of roses, low lighting, and a lacy tablecloth. They’d not had the time to figure out an elegant meal, only set out some leftover bread and cheeses, but that was fine. With good conversation, anything could be a satisfying dinner!

Soon after, Linhart joined him, entering from the other side of the room. Caspar had already seated himself after looking around frantically a few more times, and was now tapping his foot impatiently. When he saw Linhardt, he grinned, then grimaced, then attempted an extremely awkward smile.

“This is impressive,” Linhart said, seating himself across from Caspar. “Did you do this all yourself?”

“What?!” Caspar almost shouted.

“What?” Linhardt replied, not remotely shouting.

“Wasn’t this your idea?”

Linhart rested his head in his chin. “Hmm,” he said as a way of response. “It seems that someone is trying to create a romantic atmosphere between us. Here, read this.”

Caspar took the folded paper at once; the handwriting wasn’t Flayn’s, but rather a messy scrawl that he presumed was meant to be an imitation of his own. _Lin!_ it said, _Come to the dining hall at eight p.m. sharp. I have something important to tell you! Caspar_ A few small hearts surrounded both of their names.

“I got something similar,” he said, scratching his head, and not adding that the hearts were there too, “But I didn’t write this. Who would…”

Flayn and Hilda, still very hidden, glanced at each other silently as Caspar slammed his hands on the table, which was profoundly unromantic, in both of their opinions.

“Flayn!”

She promptly attempted to hold her breath and sink into the floor.

“It’s probably fine!” Hilda hissed. “They can’t see us.”

“Oh, was she bothering you about it, too? That would explain it.”

“Linhardt, you are way too calm about this!”

Linhardt shrugged.

“I’m serious!” Caspar continued, “This is weird, right? Me and you and…” he gestured widely to the setup, “... this?”

Flayn felt her stomach sink into her feet; this was not how it was supposed to happen! She had imagined Linhardt giggling demurely at the setup, thanking Caspar for his thoughtfulness, telling him he had dreamed about this sort of thing. And Caspar was supposed to chuckle along with him and not question his good fortune, and tell him he had too, and then they could hold hands and talk, and start to whisper sweet nothings, and…!

“I see you,” came a voice from over the countertop, and Flayn shrieked.

“Linhardt!” Hilda called, “Fancy meeting you here! What are you up to?”

“That’s what I should be saying. How did you get involved?”

“Oh, you know!”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t let us bother you two!” Hilda called as she took Flayn by the hand, beginning to lead her out the door. “Bye! Have fun! Be safe!”

Caspar was extremely glad that the lighting wasn’t better, because he was pretty sure he was beet red as Linhart returned to his seat. “I don’t know what they were thinking!” he said, mortified.

“I’ll never understand women. They didn’t even make us food.”

* * *

The next day, Caspar made a point of completely and utterly avoiding Linhardt (and Flayn, and Hilda). He skipped breakfast (then, famished, snuck three leftover muffins from the dining hall twenty minutes after everyone left); he holed himself up in the training grounds for the better part of the day (Claude had called a strategy meeting, which probably wasn’t important enough to risk completely mortifying himself over); and he ended almost running Linhardt over as he was dashing through the courtyard, trying to get to his room before anybody spotted him.

“You’re going to hurt yourself like that,” Linhardt told him, placing a hand on either shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

Caspar, who definitely, absolutely, did _not_ enjoy the way Linhardt’s face looked in the candlelight last night, rapidly shook his head. “Nothing!”

“You don’t need to be stressed over last night, you know. It’s fine.”

“Sure!” Caspar said, forcing a laugh. “The girls were just being silly. It’s fine!”

“No, I mean… you three don’t need to overcomplicate this. If you’re trying to seduce me, just say so.”

“If I’m _what_?”

“You wrote me a love letter.”

It occurred to Caspar all at once that of _course_ he couldn’t pull the wool over Linhardt’s eyes, of _course_ he’d suspect something about the letter. “Um, I can explain.”

“Don’t.” Linhardt said, then pulled Caspar closer to place a kiss on his cheek. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Caspar fully and truly hoped to combust right then and there, but he settled for a surprised yelp.

“It’s a long story and I don’t seem as dumb in it as I do right now,” he muttered weakly.

“I’m used to it. Now then, are you going to kiss me back or not?”

Well, there was no reason to argue with _that_.

**Author's Note:**

> Do YOU love cheesy matchmaking fanfic because I know I do!!
> 
> Feel free to say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/seraphknights)!


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